


(don't) let me go

by devoraq



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Chance Meetings, Gen, Head Injury, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, Late Night Conversations, Nightmares, Other, POV Second Person, Post-Break Up, Unspecified Gender Apprentice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-05
Updated: 2017-11-05
Packaged: 2019-01-29 06:47:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12625467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/devoraq/pseuds/devoraq
Summary: It's been a week since he ended things, and you still haven't seen any sign of Julian anywhere in Vesuvia.





	(don't) let me go

**Author's Note:**

> title pulled from the song "let me go" by pigpen theatre co. although most of the time i was writing this i was listening to "hung empty" by los campesinos!
> 
> tiny pieces of this fic were very very loosely inspired by [this wonderful art](http://ryuichifoxe.tumblr.com/post/166901507172/guess-who-destroyed-their-back-moving-furniture) by @ryuichifoxe on tumblr!! pl ease check out that art it's like 30,000x better than anything you'll read here
> 
> and last but not least my tumblr is [@devoraq](http://devoraq.tumblr.com) so hmu there if you liked this!! i'm very tentatively accepting some drabble prompts which i'm not really used to but we'll see how it goes!

You feel sick. Julian stands before you, apology after apology rolling off his tongue as he grasps one of your hands in both of his. Unable to meet his eye, you stare at his feet instead.

“Just go,” you mumble, pulling your hand away from his. Julian lets his hands fall, surprised expression frozen on you, and steps back.

“Alright. So be it.”

He opens the door to exit the shop, except the scene outside is not the familiar cobbled street it should be. There is no ground in sight, only the night sky behind him and a screaming wind that whips Julian’s cape around mercilessly. He matches your stare with an unwavering grin as he takes one more step backwards and lets himself fall. Watching Julian step out of your door and over the precipice, hurtling ever towards his doom, you feel something inside of you begin to rot and turn sour. 

The terror that takes over you at the sight sends you sprinting to the door, where you fall on your hands and knees. Stomach curling, you peer over the edge expecting to see him buffeted relentlessly in the wind as he falls, or worse, unmoving and cold against the base of the ravine. And then you lean too far and roll over yourself out of the door. You brace yourself for the wind rushing past you, ripping at your hair and clothing as you fall-

But it never comes.

You’re standing up straight without having moved, staring Julian dead in the eye. You’re at the docks again, just like the night it happened, except now your insides are withering away into ash under his cruel glare.

“You think you could give me happiness?” He sneers, bitter laughter escaping him. “That you could please me? That I want you?” His laughter grows louder while he continues to talk, cutting at your heart. You can’t pull your gaze from his cold smirk. His utter amusement at your heartbreak leaves you clenching your jaw, struggling to force back tears. You focus on the water lapping at your ankles, which shouldn't be there -- looking down, the ocean’s waters have risen several inches above the dock on which you stand, now an inch or two up your calf. You turn back to Julian, whose piercing gaze has yet to leave your face.

“I won’t miss you,” he says, voice thick with contempt, as the water reaches your knees.

With a jolt, you realize you’re falling backwards now, but you never hit the water -- above you is the same dark sky, with the door to your shop swinging erratically in the howling wind. Your eyes squeeze shut as you fall, your own hair thrown into your face uncontrollably. Below you is not land, but more water -- the aqueducts. One large, swirling white shape is visible smoothly curling around itself below the dark waters’ surface, surrounded by so many other smaller shapes that you can't tell where one ends and another begins. You can't tell if it's you that's falling, or if the water below is rising to claim you. Your back hits the surface of the water, and--

You wake up, thrashing and shivering, before you realize you’d fallen asleep, to the sensation of your shoulder being gently shaken.

“Hey now, calm down, yer alright. ‘S just me. Sorry t’ have to wake ye- though it doesn't look like yer missin’ that dream much. Thing is, it’s been hours now since ye passed out, and… Well, much as I hate to have to say this, we’re closing up for the night, and I don’t have a room to offer.” Peering up through one half-open eye, you see the bartender standing to your side, an apologetic and knowing frown on his face. “It’s time for ye to run along home.”

Rubbing your eyes and sitting up straight, you groan as your back pops several times. You shake your head and press your hands over your eyes in an attempt to shake off the memories of the dream. The things he said were not things that the real Julian would ever say to you, even if he doesn’t want to be with you. It was just a nightmare. 

Though you say none of this out loud, you realize you must be visibly distressed -- the bartender rubs your back with one large, meaty hand as if to offer some form of comfort.

“Did he…?” Your question trails off as the man answers with a slow shake of his head.

“Look, I’ll be straight with ye. None of us have seen Jules since the night before ye started showin’ up here. I don’t think-”

“Thank you.” You cut the bartender off before he can say the words you know were coming next, before he can tell you that Julian isn’t coming back. “Thanks for letting me… be here. I’m sorry, I’ve overstayed my welcome.”

“Nonsense,” he replies with a wave of his hand. “Yer a valued customer. Not to mention -- and don’t tell ‘em I said this, but -- some o’ the regulars have grown fond of ye.”

“And not you?” You tease him with a smile that masks the aching sorrow welling up in the pit of your stomach. The barkeep's eyes light up, his scarred face contorting into a massive, toothy grin. His enthusiasm alone makes you smile a little more genuinely despite yourself.

“Nope. Heart o’ cold steel,” he says, pounding his chest with a closed fist, his elbow several solid inches above your head. “Now, off ye go.” He reaches behind the counter and pulls out your bag from a shelf where it had been tucked away, likely to keep it from being stolen after you fell asleep. "See ya tomorrow!"

"Tomorrow," you agree with a parting glance over your shoulder. The boulder of a man waves at you, still grinning ear to ear. You force another pained smile as you exit, knowing that you have no intention of returning the next day, or quite possibly ever.

Behind you, the door to The Rowdy Raven swings shut, tearing with it the warmth and light inside the tavern. A stiff breeze startles you out of your lethargy for a moment just as you step outside, as if a ghost had passed through you. After recent events with your investigation, the thought is enough to send a shiver down your spine. The night is colder than you’ve grown used to expecting in Vesuvia, the sky overcast and dark. At this hour, the street is almost completely unlit; a pang of guilt strikes you as you realize just how late you must have stayed.

Though your eyes are still heavy with sleep, worry for Julian’s well-being and whereabouts has left a sense of unease settling over the pit of your stomach. As you walk, more and more anxious thoughts work their way through your mind -- whatever alcohol remains in your system from earlier in the evening has your rationality blurred, and yet your inhibitions are intact enough for you to continue down your anxious spiral.

Sighing, you change directions to take the long route back to the shop. Despite your weariness, you doubt that sleep will find you again for some time, and you could use the fresh air regardless. 

Trudging through the empty streets, the sorrow that you had pushed back while talking to the bartender comes bubbling to the surface. You bite your lip, determined not to start crying in the middle of the street, and bite harder when a few wayward tears still manage to slip out.

Struggling to choke back sobs, you don’t pick up on the sound of footsteps in the next alley until they’re replaced by clattering and thudding, and then silence. Sight still blurred by tears, you spin towards the sound, and your foot lands on something moving. It throws you off balance, and you can do nothing to save yourself from toppling forward. Your head slams into -- _something_ , something solid with a clean edge, and your sight bursts into white with blossoming pain.

You grasp at your forehead, vision filled with spinning stars -- you can’t decide if they’re real or an after-effect of the blow you just took. When you pull your hand away, all you can see is slick red. A heavy, metallic scent fills your throat that you only recognize as blood when your hand leaves a print of red on the cobblestones beneath you.

You can’t see past the blood spilling over your eyes, but you hear someone calling out, and footsteps approaching rapidly. It’s a familiar voice, but you can’t place it. You lurch back at the feeling of someone grabbing your shoulders, a panicked whimper escaping you only to be met by frantic shushing.

“It’s alright, you’re fine,” the voice says -- low, but pitched up in alarm -- as a hand comes to rest at the base of your neck. Fingers trace over your forehead, and you hiss at the wave of pain it sends through you. “I’m here, and you’re alright, I’m not leaving. You’re safe.”

The reassurances continue, the voice gradually dropping from panicked and high to a soft, comforting murmur. Slowly, your breathing begins to come easier, and the aching pain in your skull fades, replaced by a faint tingling sensation. All at once, your exhaustion washes over you, and you slump over into the arms of the person before you, asleep.

\--------

Your eyes flutter open to see the night sky. Your back is cold -- beneath you is the same bumpy stone of the streets you’d been walking through.

At the sound of a slight rustle of fabric, you sit bolt upright and whip your head around to see Julian leaning against a wall with a hand rubbing at his temple. His eye is screwed shut, and his forehead is tinted purple with bruising around a scab the size of your little finger.

“Julian-” you gasp, and Julian’s eye flashes open at the sound of your voice. He looks away from you immediately, rubbing at his eye with an ungloved hand.

“Are you feeling alright?”

“Seems like I should be the one asking you that,” you manage, still not fully recovered from your daze. “Why did you do that?”

“I’m a doctor,” he says, still not meeting your gaze, the tips of his ears burning crimson. “Helping the injured is what I do, first and foremost.”

“I already knew _that_. Why were you following me?”

“I _wasn’t_ ,” he pouts, scratching at a bit of dried blood stuck on his forehead. “I had no idea you would be out here. You caught me by surprise, and I acted on impulse.”

“Oh.” You sit down next to him and cross your arms. “Still, surely there was a better way for you to help me than to use the curse.”

“Not you- er- not to worry. The gash is gone by now, I think,” says Julian, ears flushed, as his ungloved fingers trace over his forehead where only a red scratch remains to indicate that there was any damage. “All that’s left is… one _hell_ of a concussion. I’ll be over that by…” His eye squeezes shut and he presses at his temples, wracked with frustration. “Before too long.”

Softening a bit from your initial panic, you press in closer to Julian and rest your head on his shoulder. He tenses, but doesn't pull away, and eases up slightly after a few moments.

“What were you doing out here so late, anyway?”

Julian sighs, leaning his head thoughtlessly against yours before pulling back. “I was out for a stroll. No, really, you know I don’t sleep near as well as I should. An affliction we appear to share. Anyway, Mazelinka’s ceilings are too low for restless pacing, so here I am,” he shrugs. “If we’re being honest, I… would probably have gone a different route if I’d known we would run into each other. Not that I’m gl- not- um, that I don’t want to see you- I’ve missed you terribly, actually, but I-”

“You were scared.”

Julian’s stammering cuts off, and he stares at you, blushing a fiery red.

“I- yes,” he says softly. “I was.”

“And are you still?”

He remains silent for a moment, and even with your vision straining against the darkness you can see him blush yet more intensely. 

“I was never afraid of _you_. Just of… hurting you, of getting you in trouble as deep as I am. That still does terrify me. And I didn’t- I wanted to see you so badly. It pains me to stay away, which is all the more reason that I should. This is bound to end with you hurting, because of me.”

You shake your head and reach out to turn his head. Though your touch is gentle, he follows it with no resistance, no protest save for nibbling anxiously at his lower lip.

“Did you honestly think that hadn’t occurred to me?” 

“But it _is_ true- wait.” Whatever retort Julian had prepared dies on his tongue, and he cocks his head at you.

“Julian, this is a murder investigation. Everything I do is dangerous, and involving myself with you is no exception, but it’s no more dangerous than anything else at the moment.”

“That doesn’t mean I can bear it, knowing that I’m going to hurt you.”

“We don’t know that you will. We don’t know _anything_ yet. Julian, I don't think you actually did it-"

"But I _could have_ -"

"And that's what I'm here to find out," you counter before he can finish. "Look, I'm not saying there's no risk. There _is_. But I'm an adult and I know what I'm getting into. If you don't want to do this, I'll respect that, of course. I just ask that you hear me when I say that I know the danger, and I know that you are worth all of that to me."

Julian pauses. 

"How can you look at me and feel this way, knowing what I might have done?"

You look away from him, unsure how to respond. 

"I'm not the angel you make me out to be," you mutter after a moment, face pulling closer to his.

“You still deserve better than that. Better than me. I refuse to hurt you.”

You feel your breath, warm between his cheek and your lips, as you respond barely above a whisper.

“Then _don't_.”

You kiss him softly, barely brushing lips at first. Julian’s hands find your face then, and he kisses you back with a desperation that makes your chest ache. Holding him as close to you as you can manage, it still isn't enough -- you want to hold him here forever, you don't want to let go for even a second.

Julian breaks the kiss for only a moment, your lips still brushing each other, his hands cupping your hair to the back of your neck with his thumb stroking your jaw delicately.

“Do you want me?” Any potential sensuality behind the words is dampened by the fact that it's a genuine question. There's something bittersweet in his eye when he asks, and it feels as if time has rolled to a stop around the two of you. 

“More than life,” you whisper into him.

Your lips crash together once more as Julian all but lunges at you, overwhelming all of your senses at once with him. The longing in his touch sends a chill through you as once more you feel the urge to spend the rest of your life in this moment.

But you have to separate eventually, and Julian gasps for air as you part once more. This time, he pulls out of your arms and shakes his head.

“I still don’t know if I can do this. Knowing the risk, knowing what will happen to me if…” He trails off and runs a hand down his face.

“But do you want to?”

Julian looks up at you, fingers loosely covering his nose and mouth still, with heartrending sorrow in his eyes, and nods pitifully.

“I’m not telling you that you have to be with me. If you decide that you can’t, that it won’t work, I’ll respect that. Just… think about what I’ve said. And know that I care about you more than I care to worry over the future.”

He stares at the cobblestones by his feet and lets out a heavy sigh. “I don’t know.”

You reach for his hand, taking it in both of yours, and run your thumbs over his knuckles gently. “Walk home with me. Maybe it will help you make up your mind.”

Julian nods again. You link your arm with his, him leaning into you just slightly, and set off towards the shop.

\--------

You set down a mug of hot tea on the little table next to the bed where Julian sits, untangling a lock of hair from the string of his eyepatch. After you’d sent him off to wash his face, the scratch on his forehead where the cut once was has disappeared completely, and his mind seems much less clouded than when you woke up.

"How are you feeling? Is the concussion any better?"

Julian kicks his booted feet up on the bed and sets about the painstaking process of removing them as he replies, "Well, my ears haven’t been ringing for a bit now, which I think is a good sign."

"Seeing as you're the licensed medical professional in the room, I'll take your word for it." The tips of Julian's ears redden at your statement, and you laugh, brushing a lock of hair away from his forehead to plant a kiss there. "Just tell me what I need to do to help you."

"You could start by helping me take this damned thing off," hisses Julian, extending his still boot-clad leg toward you. You sigh and tug the boot off of him, tossing it to the ground behind you, and take a seat next to him on the bed. He sets to work removing the other one, and flinches when your hand meets his lower back. “Look, I… appreciate you bringing me here, but maybe I should have gone back to Mazelinka’s after all. She’ll worry, and-”

“You’re a grown man, Julian, she won’t worry too much. Besides, you’re concussed. You shouldn’t be roaming the streets at this hour.” You sigh and pull your hand away as Julian drops his other boot to the ground with a thud. “Tell me what you’re really thinking. Talk to me, please, not _at_ me.”

Julian’s toes wiggle on top of the blankets, and he stares at them intently, blatantly avoiding eye contact.

“I still think it’s foolish of you to hope for the best, truth be told,” he says, voice gentle despite his words. 

“Then I’ll gladly be a fool. You could use someone like that in your life, from what I’ve seen.”

“But I can’t let you put yourself in this kind of danger-”

“You don’t _‘let’_ me do anything, Devorak.” Julian flushes at your interruption and turns his gaze to his fidgeting toes once more. “I’m an adult, and I know what’s at stake just as well as you do. The difference is, I don’t let it control me. And I don’t blame you for feeling consumed by fear! I just care enough about you that I want to help you change that.” 

“If you were only with me because of what _I_ want, or what you think I need, then… that isn’t right. I’d do anything for this to become something real. The risk isn’t worth it if that feeling isn’t shared.”

“The fact of the matter is, we _both_ want this, and we keep running into each other. There’s no use in fighting it.”

You scoot backwards to rest on the headboard and pull Julian back to lean against your chest, fingers running through his hair reassuringly. The man almost _bends_ into your touch, eye gently closed. His mouth falls open and he clears his throat as if to start speaking.

“If your next sentence includes the words ‘danger’ or ‘hurt’, I don’t want to hear it.” Julian shuts his mouth again. His shoulders roll back as he presses into you further. “Stay with me, just for tonight, and I’ll take care of you. Just a few hours can’t hurt.” 

“Alright,” he answers quietly after a moment’s pause. He lifts his feet to pull the blankets over and up to his chin before rolling onto his side, facing away from you. You discard your shoes and slip under the covers next to him. Your cheek presses against his shoulder blade as your arm comes to rest over his waist, and your legs tangle with his. He jumps at your touch, but quickly eases into it and softens beneath you.

“Goodnight,” whispers Julian, so quiet that it almost drowns somewhere between his shoulder and the pillows. You pull him in closer, wanting to lose yourself in his warm scent and stay there forever.

“Goodnight.”

**Author's Note:**

> soooooo i MIGHT maybe maybe _maybe_ give this a fluffy/smutty second chapter if i end up feeling like it but let me know how you feel about that if u have an opinion bc i'm still undecided
> 
> my tumblr is still [@devoraq](http://devoraq.tumblr.com) so you can check that out if you're interested in drabble/minific prompts and also watching a pair of toddlers drag me relentlessly for my every move i guess


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